Swept Away!: Accidentally Expecting! / Salzano's Captive Bride / Hawaiian Sunset, Dream Proposal

His collapse into realism made them all laugh.

‘It’s nice to meet a lady with such an adventurous approach to life,’ he added. ‘But I expect it’s only while you’re on holiday. You’ll go back to England, your sedate nine-to-five life, and your sedate nine-to-five fiancé.’

‘If I had a fiancé, what would I be doing here alone?’ she demanded.

This made him pause, but only for a moment.

‘He betrayed you,’ he said dramatically. ‘You are teaching him a lesson. When you return, he will be jealous, especially when he sees the compromising pictures of us together.’

‘Oh, will he indeed? And where will these pictures come from?’

‘It can be arranged. I know some good photographers.’

‘I’ll bet you don’t know anyone better than me,’ she riposted.

‘You’re a photographer?’ Hope asked. ‘A journalist?’

‘No, I do theatrical work.’ Some inexplicable instinct made her say to Dante, ‘And he wasn’t sedate. Anything but.’

He didn’t reply in words, but his expression was wry and curious. So was the way he nodded.

‘Let the poor girl eat in peace,’ Hope admonished him.

She watched Ferne like a mother hen, finally declaring that it was time for bed. The four of them made their way back along the corridor and said goodnight. Ferne and Hope went into one sleeping car, Toni and Dante went on to the next.

As Ferne hung up the trousers she’d been wearing, a few coins fell out onto the floor.

‘I’d forgotten I had some money in my pocket,’ she said, holding them out.

‘Three euros,’ Hope observed. ‘You wouldn’t have got far with that.’

They sat down on the bed, contentedly sipping the tea they had brought with them.

‘You said you were English,’ Ferne recalled. ‘And yet you speak as though you’ve been here for some time.’

‘Over thirty years,’ Hope told her.

‘Do you have any children?’

‘Six. All sons.’

She said it with an air of exasperated irony that made Ferne smile and say, ‘Do you ever wish you had daughters?’

Hope chuckled. ‘When you have six sons, you have no time to think of anything else. Besides, I have six daughters-in-law and seven grandchildren.

‘When our last son married, a few months ago, Toni and I decided to go on our travels. Recently we’ve been in Milan to see some of his relatives. Toni was very close to his other brother, Taddeo, until he died a few years ago. Dante is Taddeo’s elder son, and he’s coming back to Naples with us for a visit. He’s a bit of a madman, as you’ll discover while you’re staying with us.’

‘I can’t impose on you any further.’

‘My dear, you have no money or passport. If you don’t stay with us, just what are you going to do?’

‘It just seems dreadful for you to be burdened with me.’

‘But I shall love having you. We can talk about England. I love Italy, but I miss my own country, and you can tell me how things are there now.’

‘Ah, that’s different, if there’s something I can do for you.’

‘I look forward to you staying with us a long time. Now, I must get some sleep.’

She got into the lower bunk. Ferne climbed to the top one, and in a few minutes there was peace and darkness.

Ferne lay listening to the hum of the train speed through the night, trying to get her bearings. It seemed such a short time since she’d made the impulsive decision to leave England. Now she was here, destitute, reliant on strangers.

While she was pondering the strange path her life had taken recently, the rhythm of the train overtook her and she fell asleep.

She awoke to find herself desperately thirsty, and remembered that the snack bar was open all night. Quietly she climbed down and groped around in the darkness for her robe.

The three euros she’d found would just be enough for a drink. Holding her breath and trying not to waken Hope, she crept out into the corridor and made her way to the dining-car.

She was in luck. The snack bar was still open, although the tables were deserted and the attendant was nodding off.

‘I’ll have a bottle of mineral water, please,’ she said thankfully. ‘Oh dear, four euros. Do you have a small one?’

‘I’m afraid the last small bottle has gone,’ the attendant said apologetically.

‘Oh no!’ It came out as a cry of frustration.

‘Can I help?’ asked a voice behind her.

She turned and saw Dante.

‘I’m on the cadge for money,’ she groaned. ‘Again! I’m desperate for something to drink.’

‘Then let me buy you some champagne.’

‘No, thank you, just some mineral water.’

‘Champagne is better,’ he said in the persuasive voice of a man about to embark on a flirtation.

‘No, water is better when you’re thirsty,’ she said firmly.

‘Then I can’t persuade you?’

‘No,’ she said, getting cross. ‘You can’t persuade me. What you can do is step out of my way so that I can leave. Goodnight.’

‘I apologise,’ he said at once. ‘Don’t be angry with me, I’m just fooling.’ To the bartender he added, ‘Serve the lady whatever she wants, and I’ll have a whisky.’

He slipped an arm about her, touching her lightly but firmly enough to prevent her escape, and guided her to a seat by the window. The barman approached and she seized the bottle of water, threw back her head and drank deeply.